Bite Me, Paranoid
by Sarah Rose Serena
Summary: Rogue gets in the way of Pyro's mission. Things don't go smoothly. Post-X3


**Bite Me, Paranoid**

_~ An X-MEN Short Story ~_

_From Sarah Rose Serena_

_

* * *

__X-Mansion_

_Westchester, New York_

_Sometime Around Midnight_

The dark-haired girl bounced and shimmied her way around the moderately-sized dormitory chamber as she moved to the tunes of the stereo while undressing. She sang along words she knew by heart in a soft southern drawl. Her long wavy locks swayed back and forth as she pulled on an undershirt and a pair of boxer shorts to sleep in.

It wasn't that long ago that she would have been in long sleeves and pajama pants, despite the warm summer weather. She'd always kept her elbow-length opera gloves in her bedside drawer, right there handy, and she only ever took them off when she was alone. Now, it was so liberating to just throw on something skimpy and dance around the room. She was carefree. She was _normal_. This was the way it was supposed to be.

Humming to herself, Rogue corralled her hair up into a high ponytail, letting the silver streaks on either side of the part fall to frame her face, and set the alarm. She'd have to be up by 7 for training. That left about six hours of deep sleep, once she finally got to bed.

But just as she was pulling back the coverlet, a muffled _thump_ resonated from outside her window. The music still blared and she wouldn't have heard the noise had the Wolverine's heightened senses not rubbed off on her from the multiple times she'd absorbed him in the past, when she _could_ absorb, that was.

The girl turned toward the shadowed balcony, her brow furrowing as tingles of awareness pricked at her spine, screaming DANGER. Moving warily, she lifted the window and climbed out, keeping her eyes peeled for intruders. She leaned against the balustrade and looked out over the expansive quad. Everything was quiet and still below. But the gnarled tree branch that grew beside her window had blown forward over the balcony and was tapping at the glass.

_There, see? Perfectly reasonable explanation_, she told herself. But she still wasn't satisfied. The first noise didn't sound like tapping on glass. It sounded … solid. Either way, she tried to ignore the niggling as she climbed back inside. Chalk it up to full moon jitters.

Even as her senses wouldn't settle down, Rogue's head started bopping to the beat of the music once again. The crude but catchy Theory of a Dead Man's _Bad Girlfriend_ was still playing, which had recently become one of her favorites. She ran her fingers through her tied hair and rocked her hips, swaying to the hyper melody. Humming again, Rogue danced past her closet door, which was hanging open, and kicked it shut on her way to the door to the hall. She was headed downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water before getting to bed.

She'd made it into the stairwell before hesitating. Glancing down at herself, she realized she couldn't wander the mansion like this, deadly skin or not. Almost nothing was covered, and in case someone was still up lurking the corridors, she'd better go throw on a robe.

As she got closer to the room, she realized she'd left the stereo blasting, and the door wasn't fully shut. Moving quicker now, the girl burst inside and jogged into the bathroom to snatch up her robe. But when she reached the bathroom door, she stopped dead at the sight before her, still clutching the handle.

"Pyro?" she whispered, utterly frozen.

The stereo quieted and silence filled the room as Rogue stared in shock. St. John Allerdyce—the traitorous Pyro—stood with his back to her, gripping the side of her bathroom sink. Through the mirror's reflection, she could clearly see the look in his eyes, and she didn't like it, not at all.

Closing her mouth and releasing the doorknob, Rogue took a hesitant step back before outright spinning on her heels and sprinting for the door. She'd almost reached her escape when an arm wrapped around her and yanked her back, knocking a high-pitched yelp from the panicked girl. A hand went to cover her mouth before she could get out the scream bubbling up her throat. She grunted, mumbling unhappily, her words muffled, and felt his breath on her neck a second before his rough voice filled her ears.

"Shut up, Rogue." He shook her a bit and then his tone softened as he let out a tired sigh. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you."

That roused a vehement scoff from the pinned girl. _Like you could_, she wanted to say.

"No, really, I'm not. In fact, if you promise to not scream for help, I'll even let go of you."

A second of contemplation went by before she gave him a reluctant nod of her head.

His grip tightened for a minute, warning her, and she yelped in protest, trying to ram her heel down onto his foot. But he dodged. "I mean it, Rogue. If you do, I'll scorch you before anyone is even up from their beds."

"Fine!" she spat at him through his hand, swallowing back the urge to clamp her teeth down on his palm. Another moment of standstill passed before he moved to let her go. Immediately, she leapt away, spinning around to face him with her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you weren't going to hurt me? 'Cause I definitely consider being burned alive hurting me."

Pyro let out a sigh of frustration as he suppressed the urge to smack her, while she controlled the urge to kick him in the groin and run to the Wolverine's room, sending him back to skewer the firestarter.

"What're ya doing here, Pyro?" she huffed, refraining from rolling her eyes. She was deeply frightened, and not a little pissed, so bravado was better than showing fear. "Behind enemy lines and all that. Y'know you'll get it good if you get caught on our grounds."

"Pyro, huh?" he drawled, chuckling to himself. To which Rogue scowled.

"What? It's your name, ain't it?" Her voice was icy and her eyes were narrow as she glared daggers his way. Her mouth opened to send another successive barb when she noticed the way he was gripping at his side with one arm. Her gaze traveled down farther to the dark spots dripping onto the carpet. "You're staining my floor."

"Well, I beg your pardon."

Ignoring the scathing sarcasm, Rogue moved closer, hands dropping from her hips. "What do ya want?" she asked him. "Why are ya here?"

"Look," he growled, batting away her arms when she reached for his bleeding side. "I just popped in for a few things—nothing serious. Don't fret, precious. I'll be in and out quickly, if you behave, and you'll never have to see me again."

Backing away, Rogue went just far enough to collapse onto the end of her bed and folded her arms across her chest.

"Good girl," he mocked, before disappearing within the bathroom for a moment, and then reappearing with a small wicker basket in tow. He'd found her first aid supplies.

Grumbling to himself too low for her to understand, he sunk down onto the bed beside her and started rifling through the basket. After a moment of quiet, he turned to her and quirked a dark eyebrow.

Rogue's own brow shot up and her lips pursed. "What? Oh, expect _me_ to help ya, huh?" She waited long enough for his brow to go up even further as he tilted his head to the side in answer before she gave him a firm "No."

"Rogue . . ."

"What?" She laughed, ringing a haughty sort of warmth between them. "You break in here, restrain me, _insult_ me, technically hold me hostage, and ya want me to patch up your wounds now, too? I don't think so."

"I could make you," he threatened. "But I'd kind of prefer to keep this little encounter as peaceful as possible. Wouldn't you?"

Rogue stared defiantly for a good long minute before finally turning her head away, huffing out a deep breath, and standing. She moved to stand between his legs as she roughly tugged off his jacket and yanked his shirt up over his head, forcing out a grunt of pain and a muffled curse from her hostage taker.

"Oh, did I hurt you?" she simpered. "Good."

Then she kneeled down in front of him to examine the wound. His abdomen was coated in deep bruises, and a wide gash that ran along the left side of his solar plexus was still bleeding profusely. Rogue's humor promptly died. But when she looked up to find him staring down at her, a banked intensity in his dark eyes, she stiffened. Pretending to not notice, she refocused on his injury, cleaning and bandaging with an air of brisk professionalism that would keep her in safe territory.

Once she was finished, Rogue rose to her feet and took a cautious step backward, allowing him distance as he worked to get his grungy T-shirt back on. But after she pulled away, Pyro was hit with a faint sensation of abandonment as the sweet scent of sugar cookies and jasmine went with her.

"There," she said brusquely. "You'll be fine. You can go now."

He stood to shrug his jacket back on. "Not quite."

She folded her arms, jutting a hip so it wouldn't look as if she were hugging herself, which she _so_ wasn't. "Excuse me?"

"There's one more thing before I go."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

He looked up at her then, pinning her with a heated stare that had her backing away on instinct as he advanced on her. "You're gonna bring me down to the basement level. Then, once you get me back up here, undetected, I'll go and leave you alone."

Rogue had to swallow past the lump in her throat before she could force her voice out. "And why the hell would I bring ya down to the lower levels of the school? In case you've forgotten, the X-Men don't allow their enemies tours of the base of operations."

He reached out and took her arm in a hard grip before she could react. He jerked her into him and in a low tone told her, "I don't need a tour. I know exactly where I'm going, babe. You will take me down there. I'm sure the key code to the elevator isn't the same as it was when I still lived here. You'll get me down there and back and I'll let you go, unharmed. Got it?"

"Why should I believe ya?"

"Why do you think you have a choice?"

That shut her up right quick. And when she slumped with defeat, he strode past her, dragging her behind him out into the darkness of the corridor. They went down three flights of stairs to reach the ground floor then bypassed common areas and interwoven hallways until they were about to pass the entrance to the kitchen.

Pyro stopped so abruptly in his tracks that Rogue crashed into his back. He spun to catch her arm again before she could go stumbling into something. The two female voices that had caught his attention were coming from inside and nearing quickly. He backed away from the doorway, shoving her behind a massive set of drapes and pinning her to the wall with his body, one hand clamped over her mouth again to keep her quiet.

They were nose to nose, bodies flush, and Rogue was having trouble ignoring the feeling she got with him pressed against her so. He was always so warm, running higher than the average core temp. It probably had something to do with his power. Not that that mattered at all. Her distraction—attraction—was completely excusable. After all, she was still getting used to being able to touch without the threat of sucking someone's life force away. It would take some adjustment to handle being so easily accessible.

She tried concentrating on the muffled conversation as the girls left the kitchen and passed them by in the hall, moving at an incredibly slow pace. Jeez, were they _crawling_ or what? They were so busy gossiping that it seemed as if they had the speed of snails. Eavesdropping, trying steadfastly to ignore the close-quarters situation she found herself in, fighting the urge to fidget, Rogue could barely breathe.

"_Well, who doesn't know? I can't think of anyone. I mean, come on, it was obvious even then that Iceman was messing around with Kitty. Those two were always . . ."_

"_What did she expect, anyway? Like, he's a guy, duh. And she never even . . ."_

The voices faded as they turned the corner into the stairwell. Thank God.

But Pyro was staring down at her again, and she couldn't look at him. She had her head turned to the side, her expression impassive. The only thing that betrayed her was the single tear that trickled down her cheek and wet his hand as it lingered over her mouth.

They stood there, silent and unmoving, for a long moment. Then he pulled her out of her reverie—literally—as he dragged her down the hall towards the secure elevator.

Pyro's hand slipped down from her bicep to her wrist as they went. When they reached the elevator, he shoved her inside and followed closely. The metallic door slid silently shut after them. He nudged her towards the front panel and she reluctantly entered the seven digit code to start it up. They descended into X-Men headquarters.

~ X-MEN ~

Rogue hovered at the threshold to the medical bay, watching anxiously as Pyro rifled through the locked cabinets and drawers, searching for whatever he was after. Man, she was such a traitor. She was betraying her people by helping him. She didn't even put up a fight. Darn it. Why was she doing this?

He found the hidden vault, where Dr. McCoy kept all his more precarious experiments and hazardous materials. He melted the lock and disappeared inside. When he came out, he was holding a small steel box.

Rogue's lips parted, wanting to ask, but she clamped down on her curiosity and wrapped her arms tighter around herself as he set the box onto a sterilized counter and broke the lock. She inched closer until she was looking over his shoulder at what was hidden inside.

There was nothing there except five delicate vials of some foreign substance. Taking a closer look as Pyro held up a vial between his thumb and forefinger, Rogue realized what they were looking at. It was what they'd been calling the "cure" for mutants.

Why McCoy would be keeping a small supply in a locked box inside a secure vault, Rogue couldn't figure. But what Pyro might want it for . . . there really was only one option. He despised the so-called cure, so he wouldn't be looking to use it on himself. He must be following orders. She was sure the Brotherhood would want some of it for testing. Exactly what, she couldn't figure, either. But did it really matter?

"That's the cure?" she murmured. "What do you want with that?"

He plucked the rest of the vials out of the box and wrapped them in a small velvet satchel before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Then he went about returning everything to previous order. Once he was finished, he swaggered right up to her, closing every last inch of distance between them, and met her stare with an inexplicably smoldering gaze of his own. That look was the one that always made her skin crawl. And she never had been able to figure out whether it was a good crawling or a bad crawling feeling.

"Are you scared?" he asked in a deadly serious tone.

"Of what?" she whispered back, trying to keep calm.

"Your powers."

Oh, no. "I . . . I'm not a mutant anymore, Pyro."

He lowered his lids, looking down at her through thick lashes. "You know just as well as I do that they're coming back. It doesn't strip you of anything. It's just a suppressant. What I want to know is . . . are you afraid? Or will you welcome your power back? Magneto's returned, so has Mystique, and countless others." He started moving forward with a predatorily languid pace and she had to give ground to keep from being bowled over. "What makes you think yours won't come back?"

Yeah, she knew. She'd heard the reports. She knew that certain mutants that had been subjected to the cure weren't totally powerless. The cure had officially been renamed the suppressant. It worked on _some_, though. It did.

"It's worked permanently on the majority of the population that took it," she informed him, her voice quavering. "Why would I assume it wouldn't work on me?"

"You haven't figured it out yet? The stronger the mutant, the less time the serum is effective. You're no Phoenix, Rogue. But you're probably just as powerful a mutant as Magneto. Hell . . . probably more so. The way I figure it, you only got a few months left of being all touchable at the most."

To keep from breaking down, Rogue bristled. "Screw you."

At that, Pyro let out a mocking laugh and rudely brushed past her, grabbing her hand and spinning her around to follow after him. The elevator door closed behind them as Rogue stiffly reentered the code.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in silence—until it ended with a sharp jab. "Was it worth it?"

"What?"

"The cure?" he spat like an acrid taste was left on his tongue. "Losing your power? Was it worth it, just to be able to—"

"I wouldn't know," she cut him off before he could finish with something vulgar and offensive. The tone of her voice made it clear she was done discussing it. Not that he cared.

But her claim did mollify him a bit. "Well, it's a lot better than your little toy."

Rogue's head whipped around at that. "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged.

She glared. "You . . ."

"Nope."

"Oh, my God."

"What?"

"You _perverted bastard_!" she hissed. "How dare you!"

"What?"

"What do ya mean, what? You've been spying on me?"

"What! Don't flatter yourself, princess. You're getting all paranoid."

"Bite me, paranoid."

His expression changed to one of playfulness as he grinned at her, his eyes sparkling as he leered at her. "I'd love to."

She gave him a good slap across the jaw before she could stop herself.

"Fine, so I visited your balcony once—or twice—in the middle of the night and _accidentally_ caught you in the middle of . . . _something_." He turned back to her with a smartass smirk on his lips again, rubbing absentmindedly at his stinging jaw. "By the way, the blood red vibrator was a nice choice."

Her face flushed with something other than anger then and she locked her arms tightly around herself, trying to find composure.

"Oh, and one more thing . . ." he murmured, voice going silky all of a sudden. He came closer, slanting until he was mere inches from her. "I really _loved_ hearing you purr my name. That . . . was just . . . what I needed."

Rogue's jaw dropped. Scrambling to remember herself, she shoved him backward. He hit the wall with a painful thud, but only chuckled softly at her humiliation before returning serious and staring straight ahead of him at the closed door.

"He's a moron."

"Excuse me?"

"The Iceman," he said. "He belongs with Kit Kat. She's easier to handle."

"I'm sorry, but if this is you trying to be nice, please don't."

Pyro just shrugged. "It's true. You shouldn't be so upset about it. His problem was never getting the girl. He just never knew what to do with you once he had you. Like I said, Kitty Cat's more pliable. They deserve each other."

After a long moment of though, a reluctant smile graced Rogue's lips as his words warmed through her. It faded quickly, though, once the double entendre sunk in.

"Ya don't know anything about me. How would ya know what—" Her voice died on her lips—or rather on _his_ lips—as she felt his body push against hers, forcing her back up against the wall. His hands delved into her hair and her arms had somehow wrapped themselves around his neck of their own accord. His mouth burned at first, but the heat soon became a soothing sort of warmth, soothing and enticing.

His hot breath seeped into her as she parted her lips for him, allowing his tongue the entrance it was seeking.

A moment later, he pulled back just as suddenly as he'd started, leaving her breathless, stunned, and confounded. His hands splayed against the wall on either side of her head, and his hips stayed pressed into hers, keeping her pinned. Tucking an errant tendril of silver hair behind her ear, she struggled to register his next words.

"I know you. I know I should have done that a long time ago and why I didn't had nothing to do with poisonous skin or death wishes. And I know . . . you sure as hell would have wanted it . . . you sure as hell would've asked for more. I know you wouldn't have been worrying about your power or thinking at all," he promised her, his voice so low and fervent that it unfurled something unbearably needy deep inside her. "Yeah, I know you, Rogue. Don't bullshit yourself by trying to say I don't."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, after a long moment, in a small, soft, almost shy voice. "Why didn't you do that a long time ago?"

"I was an idiot," he explained with an unbothered shrug. "I stupidly believed staying away from my friend's girl was more important than having what I wanted."

"And?"

"It wasn't."

He took her wrist again and pulled her out of the waiting elevator, down the darkened corridors, up the staircases, and back into her dorm as quickly as possible without alerting someone by making too much noise. He shoved her inside and pulled her up against him for another breathless kiss, kicking the door shut behind him as he hauled her up by her hips and she circled his waist with her legs, cinching her thighs around him. Her fingers twined in his dirty brown hair.

They collapsed onto the bed, fumbling gracelessly with each other, aching and impatient, while Three Days Grace flowed from the stereo speakers.

~ X-MEN ~

Rogue turned over, circling Pyro's bare chest with her arms as she set her chin on his stomach, gingerly tracing the bruises scattered there with her fingertips. His breathing was deep and even and she assumed he'd fallen asleep until he started twirling one of her silver streaks between his fingers.

She was still sore, but wasn't minding it so much when he pulled her up to him and kissed her again, gentle this time, slow and exploratory and smoldering. Their coupling had been rushed, fierce, frenzied. It was amazing. But the way he was kissing her now, touching her now, it was almost unbearable.

She was making sure to savor every moment of it, because she knew, deep down, even though she didn't want to admit it yet, she knew that she didn't have much time left. She could feel her mutation returning, ever so slowly. She'd started feeling it almost a week ago and knew what it meant.

Her eyes drifted shut as she drew away from his lips and rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Awesome."

"You're tired."

"Mm," she murmured, nodding and yawning as if on cue. "Kinda."

"Go to sleep. Get some rest." His hand was tracing idle patterns across her bare back and it was as glorious as it was simple.

"Uh-uh."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to . . ." she whispered hesitantly into his chest as her hands curled over his arms. "I don't wanna wake up alone."

Letting out a deep sigh, he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head, nuzzling into her hair where the curve of her neck met her shoulder. "You won't."

Her eyelids were already too heavy to keep open and she was almost gone despite resistance. Half asleep, she shifted over and nestled back into the solid planes of his body, burying her head in the crook of his arm as she hid her face. When she answered, he barely heard her mumble, having already lost her to the dream world. "Liar . . ."

_Finis_


End file.
